Siya's life in Chandipur was marked by resilience and solitude, her days consumed by nurturing the vibrant blooms of her flower shop. Abandoned at birth and haunted by the mystery of her parents' disappearance, she had grown accustomed to the whispe...
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The dawn broke gently over Chandipur, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold. I opened the wooden shutters of my flower shop, letting the early morning light spill into the small space. The shop was my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in the colours and fragrances of the flowers I so lovingly tended. Each bloom was a piece of beauty in an otherwise tumultuous life, a testament to the resilience I had cultivated over the years.
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As I arranged a bouquet of marigolds, the vibrant orange petals seemed to dance in the sunlight. My hands moved deftly, but my mind drifted, caught in the snare of memories that lingered just out of reach. I often wondered about my parents, about why they had left me behind. Their faces were a blur in my mind, like shadows moving in the fog, never clear enough to grasp.
The villagers had their stories, whispered in hushed tones whenever they thought I wasn't listening. Some said my parents had fled in the night, escaping from a scandal that threatened to ruin them. Others claimed they had perished in an accident, leaving me an orphan with no past and no name. I had grown up amidst these rumors, each one adding a layer to the mystery of my existence.
I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts. There was no use dwelling on what I couldn't change. The present demanded my attention, and my flowers were a comfort, their beauty a balm for the wounds of the past.
The bell above the shop door jingled, and I looked up to see a familiar face. Mrs. Verma, one of my regular customers, entered with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Siya. Do you have my usual order ready?"I returned her smile, grateful for the distraction.
"Of course, Mrs. Verma. Just give me a moment."
As I wrapped her bouquet, my thoughts drifted back to the dreams that had plagued my sleep the night before. Blurry images of a man and a woman, their faces shrouded in shadows, their voices just out of reach. I could never quite make out what they were saying, but their presence was a constant, haunting me with the promise of answers I could never attain.
